Day 20 - 20th Feb - Udaipur

We spent some time in the morning looking at options for where we were going to travel next and got chatting to Jodie, a sunny and enthusiastic Canadian girl.

Since Matt and I were only staying for one day, we took a tour together. The driver, Firaz took us to a market and explained lots of the things we saw there. He even taught us the actual price of fruit and veg.
He took us around the different lakes - some of which would have been very pretty was it not for the layer of scum and rubbish that floated at the edges. People stood around the periphery washing themselves and their clothes.

As well as a few camera shops, Firaz took us to the cenotaphs of the local royal family and told us to ignore the signs to tell visitors to take off their shoes and that photos weren't allowed as we were going to bribe the security man with 10 rupees each.

He then took us to some quite nice gardens built by Maharaja Sanram Singh for his wife and her friends and servents. It had lots of little fountains that were constructed in the days before electrity and was gravity-fed from the purpose-built lake above. There were lots of pretty flowers but Matt spent most of his time there bargaining for camera stuff before the man he was bargaining with got bored and started selling to someone else.

Jodie and I needed the loo and discovered the joys of multiple squat toilets without any dividing sections, just three squat loos side-by-side. It was the second time I'd seen it but this time the one individual toilet was too disgusting to even step inside. We took it in turns to guard the door against the growing queue of impatient Indian women while we precariously avoided the piles of poo that we all in the wrong places.
The last lake we visitied was very nice though and we tried to go on a pedal boat but they wouldn't go and fetch them from the middle of the lake so instead tried to persuade us to take the more expensive option. We walked around it instead.

A point of interest about Udaipur: the James Bond film, Octopussy was filmed there and many of the hotels still had nightly showings. We didn't see one.

Back near the hostel, Rizwan (the hotel owner) offered to buy the camera that Matt liked as he might be able to get it cheaper than us and we took a walk into the city and debated whether or not to visit the city palace - the second biggest in India. This turned out to be not such a great thing when we had to trudge around it in weather that was now getting very hot. We didn't understand much of what we saw but really enjoyed getting to know Jodie and asking her endless questions about Canada and her job at in real estate.
On our way back to the hostel we were harrassed by a dog that really didn't seem very happy to see us.
Back on the rooftop, Matt inspected his new camera and we chatted to a really helpful South American couple. They gave us lots of advice about visiting South America and the girl Natalie, told us about an excellent cooking course she'd done that day.

One of the things I really wanted to do on my travels was learn to cook in the different countries and so Jodie and I went to find Shashi's cooking school as she wasn't answering the phone. When we got there she was on the balcony, watching the Shiva celebrations.  She told us that she had already turned down 6 people for the following day as it was a holiday but we must have looked so pathetic that she agreed to teach us.

On the way back we came across the dog again. We tried to find a different way and came across a family who advised us there was no other way through. This time though, the dog was more determines and it followed us quite a lot further. The family told us to throw stones but didn't actually come to help so we weren't so convinced. We ended up calling Rizwan to come and help us and lead us back in safety.
Rizwan was a really nice guy and had a very dry sense of humour. He was hilarious but we couldn't always tell of he was joking. He invited us to 'have a chai party' and entertained us by setting us puzzles about swimming ants and teasing me about the 'musical competition' and 'fireworks' - which I eventually worked out was about farting!

Matt tried to sort train tickets with a very slow computer connection while I played with starws with Rizwan's little girl. We got the tickets to Delhi sorted but there were only tickets left in the tourist quota for getting to Varanasi so we may have to go to train station for those.

Day 19 - 19th Feb - Mount Abu - Udaipur

Since we  still had our not-so-good camera and I'd stopped refusing to take picures because I was sulking so much about lost one, we retraced some of our steps from first day to  get some photos of the lake and from Toad Rock.

Even though they were both guiding in the morning, Narayan and Dalpat rushed back to take us to the bus station... on their mopeds. At least Dalpat had had his fixed but I very much wished there was someone there to take a picture of us. I was fortunate and had the spare wheel to balance my bag on but would have liked to have set off second so I could have seen Matt and his back teetering on the back of a Vespa which was crawling up a very steep hill.

It was really hard to say goodbye. We feel very lucky to have stumbled across such caring, honest people. Their generosity and kindness was unlimited and they welcomed us as friends. They were a different breed of people to many that we have met in India and we learned a lot from spending time with them. Our goodbye to ND was quite short because he had to go and eat lunch before his afternoon job but Dalpat stayed around to see us off. He  went to buy us water and came back with a bag of fruit too so we'd have something to eat on the journey but refused to let us pay for it.

The journey down the mountain was stunning. It was so beautiful and soon looked so remote that it was hard to imagine that a community lived at the summit. The views were quite spectacular but it was difficult to capture on camera due to the perilous nature of the  roads and the suicidal driving skills.

Arrived Udaipur and got to lovely,clean guesthouse. They even had a toilet roll, towels and a little collection of goodies such as soap and a little pot of moisturiser. The first decent hot shower we'd had in weeks was heaven.

They also had (very slow) wifi so, after lots of faffing, we even managed a skype conversation with my family. Really enjoyed being able to see them and chat though it does make me miss them even more.

Day 18 - 18th Feb - Mount Abu

We slept a little later than usual and looked around the town at a few cameras. While wandering round we saw Harsh with an Italian guy, Francesco, who was looking for a room.  We told him that the guesthouse came highly recommended and told him it would be nice if he joined us after he's looked.

Matt and I sat and read for a while in the gardens next to the lake. We seem to have become more of a tourist attraction ourselves and more people than ever are asking for a photo with us, or even serrupticiously trying to snap us when they think we haven't noticed.

Francesco came to meet us and after a chat, we told told him that we had been meaning to visit the 'Spiritual University' as the Iranian/British woman had said that it was really interesting and we wanted to know more about the hoardes of European looking people wearing white roobes who were constantly circling the lake. We had assumed that it was some sort of expensive retreat where people go to find themselves for a small fortune and wanted to have a nosey.

The complex of buildings of the university were exceptionally grand, pretty and clean and they did tours so we got to have a look around and see the massive lecture hall. The main practice there was Raja Yoga Meditation and the whole thing was dedicated to promoting peace, with institutions world wide. It was funded by Unesco and all of the courses that they offered were free.
We decided to speak to someone to find out more about the courses. Since we're in India and India is all about spirituality, it felt like it might be a cool thing to do. Francesco had also applied for an ashram so he was quite interested too.

We were taken for a 'lesson' with Sister Gita. Her role was to make clear what it was all about but after umpteen back-to-back metaphors, it was starting to get a little repetetive. As she was explaining, she kept stopping to ask us for responses but in that really annoying way where she was forcing us to reply but there was only one answer and we had to get it right. When we didn't give the answer she wanted, she pushed forward with her point anyway. We started to get quite frustrated and the hour that she was talking was really dragging.

She offered us a cup of tea while we thought about whether it was for us. We quite fancied a cuppa so we let her take us to another part of the complex where there was a big canteen and loads of people in white. We had a cup of tea  She introduced us to a lady who told us her story. She had tried various religions at different parts of her life and eventually found that this type of philosophy and way of teaching suited her best. She now volunteered full-time at the head office in London. She told us the process that she had undergone to get to this stage and kept saying that she had not 'surrendered' straight away but had slowly let go go other parts of her life until she felt she was ready to 'surrender' completely.

We were offered to be able to stay and watch in our native language but politely declined. Francesco was offered the chance to watch an Italian film and speak more to the Italian speaking teacher and, even though we were sure he'd said no, he seemed to go along with them anyway.

We told them we would be interested in learning more and agreed to go the following day for our 'lesson' because we wanted a smooth exit. However, the terminology and approach made Matt and myself rather uncomfortable so we sent Sister Gita a message after we had left to say that it wasn't for us. She was surprisingly fine about it. In many ways it would have been quite interesting and it had lots of good philosophies but we weren't entirely comfortable.

That night, we caught up with ND and Dalpat for our last night in Mount Abu and had a campfire amongst the rocks. Now, every form of transport in India is crowded - you very often see cars with 7 people squashed in the back or 3 lads and a goat on a pushbike or a couple with a baby and a toddler on a motorbike but somehow, me, Matt and a skinny kid crushed onto a scooter seemed the most comical of all. The scooter reached a top speed of a speedy sloth at most points and just felt embarrassing. Nevertheless, it was a pretty spot,  the sky was really beautiful and it was one of the lad's birthdays so was a good chance to take some more pictures. It was a very nice way to spend a last evening with Dalpat and ND.

If anyone is interested in learning more about the work they do with educating tribal girls, visit their website

Day 17 - 17th Feb - Mount Abu

We checked out of Shri Ganesh under a cloud of bad feeling since the owner wasn't pleased about us moving on. We were grateful for the effort he'd made the first night but it was the first time we'd used the guidebook to find accommodation and it was clear that standards had dropped since Lonely Planet had visited.

Without the usual pestering of tuks tuks, we hufted our bags down the hill and around the lake to get the Lake Residency guesthouse - stopping only to refuse the one brave trolley pushing guy who offered to take us. We were immediately so much happier. The guesthouse was nestled amongst the rocks and our room opened out into the pretty garden.

We popped up to the roof terrace, had a chat with the Iranian mother and daughter who lived in Britain and gaped at the story of the daughter's first trip to India. In short, she'd had bed bugs, been ripped off and then got sandwiched on a very long bus journey between 2 old guys who touched her as bits of the bus roof fell on her head. When she challenged them, one of them just started to touch himself - and all within her first 24 hours. She said it was a great story to tell but she went on to fall in love with India and visited it often.

We walked up to Dalpat's to start sorting out the police report but he'd been called out on a last-minute guiding job so we read by the lake for a bit and took a wander through the town.

We stopped for some lunch at a restaurant and then felt bad because the kid that worked there had to wake the owner/chef up because he was sleeping behind the counter. The food was really good but we felt more guilty that we didn't want much. Our stomachs  seem to have shrunk quite a lot and neither of us can eat very much any more.

As we walked through the markets we started being followed by a dog. It was the scabbiest thing with a bald-patch around a section of its tail which was almost in the style of a show-poodle and it  couldn't walk far before having to stop and have a really good scratch, but it really seemed to like us. We didn't feed it or pet it or anything but it followed us everywhere we went and when it did go in front of us, stopped to let us catch up. I became almost convinced that it was a kind of tatty Lassie and was trying to lead us to the camera.

Just before I got too carried away with my fantasies we bumped into Dalpat, who was trying to help a friend sort out the bank account of his dead mother. He said his guiding was done for the day and so we could meet him back at his house to write the report.

The style of report was quite strange - a combination between the detailed facts of myself and the camera and a letter begging forgiveness for bothering the police. I went with Dalpat to print it out, photocopy my passport and visa at a shop and submit it at the police station. Since his bike was having problems and most of it was uphill, we had to stop to borrow some guys motorbike. The changing of transport on the way to the police station had made me feel like some sort of criminal mastermind so I was feeling a bit giggly by the time we reached the station.

The police soon put a stop to that. Like lots of men in India, they stand around in groups pretending that they're a re really busy and looking quite mean. Every time they spoke to each other they sounded like they were having an argument and I felt my lower status as a woman (and of course, a camera-losing police-bothering moron). Dalpat had suggested that I go instead of Matt because they were generally more respectful with female tourists so I can't imagine what they'd have been like wiith him.  After a fair amount of barking, at me and each other, the formalities were completed and we left.

We spent another evening around the campfire at Dalpat's house with ND and a couple of other friends of theirs. We had a real laugh, a few glasses of rum, and food cooked by Dalpat's mum and his air force friend's wife - which was delivered to us by motorbike. We met Dalpat's wife and she was very meek and sweet. Due to the tensions of their marriage, she had agreed to never show her face to his mother so when his mum even stepped outside she but her scarf over her face.

We stayed until we were tired and headed down the street to our nice clean bed.

Day 16 - 16th Feb - Mount Abu

What a welcome relief to be in Mount Abu. As we walked around it seemed so much more beautiful, peaceful and clean than anywhere we'd seen so far. We wandered around the lake admiring the view of the mountains beyond and came across a sign for Toad rock. We climbed the many steps to get to it and it was worth every bead of sweat. The rock itself looked more like a dinosaur to me and a turtle's head to Matt but we still very much enjoyed perching on it and admiring the scenery.

We spent quite a lot of time chatting to a pair of lovely kids, Narayane and Rajan, who attended an English language medium school. They were currently on their winter holiday for 3 months and so were helping out selling refreshments on the plateau near the rock.

We continued our walk around the lake. Mount Abu is a little like a British seaside resort with a big lake instead of the sea and no arcades or chippys. There weren't many white tourists there but seemed to be a lot of Indian ones, milling about, buying candy floss and pedalling boats. There were no tuks tuks at all. This cut down on noise and pollution quite dramatically but the alternatives of horseback or ancient old man pulling a 'Radio Flyer' type cart weren't exactly appealling so we were pleased that it was quite a small place.

We wandered around the lake and took a road a little further out of the main town, where we saw huge expanses of white fabric layed over the rocks to dry in the sun. We stopped to take a photo of this with the river in the foreground and toad rock in the background. Further on we came across 'Honeymoon Point', a collection of outcrops with stunning vistas across the plains. It was absolutely incredible to walk past lots of rocks and hills and suddenly come across a view of such an  immense and flat area. It was at this point that we realised we did not have the camera any more.

We checked the  various areas of Honeymoon Point and then rushed back to where we knew we'd last had it but it was not there. After another check at honeymoon point we had to concede that it was gone. It was such a mood killer. We'd been really happy and content and relaxed for the first time in a few weeks and it was all over so quickly.

We asked several people and handed out our number on the way back into town in the hope that someone would contact us if they knew anything. It was a long shot but better than doing nothing.  We tried going to the police station and reporting it but it was a struggle to make them understand and to even take my number so we didn't have a chance of reporting it properly.

Then we tried to search out camera shops where someone might take it to sell it and asked if they sold second-hand cameras. We were in a shop looking an new cameras when we met Harsh, who told where there was another camera shop. He then offered to help us ask around around in the local language and said that his brother could help us file a police report if we didn't have any luck. We had nothing to lose and so decided to trust him. On the way, he told us about his work as a guide taking trips in the mountains to look at wildlife in order to make money for a movement that educates tribal girls.

Harsh took us to his brother, Narayan (ND), who was a really interesting guy. He was an animator, an academic, a founder member of the movement and was writing a book about the caste system. He explained that it was best to have another look in the bushes just in case someone had hidden it to come back to later. Matt's torch collection came in handy again but the search was fruitless.

ND said he'd look again in daylight but that it was probably best going to meet is friend who could help with the police report, Dalpat. At Dalpat's we were brought chai by 'mummy' and spent the evening sat around the fire, chatting and listening. They told us more about the 'movement' to help 'tribal' girls and about their experiences guiding. Dalpat told stories of guiding for eminent people such as the UK High Commissioner to India, various Indian government officials and Tom Cruise. He showed us a file of appreciation letters that he'd received and regaled us with hilarious tales.

We discussed the pressure Narayan was under to get any government job, no matter what it was or how it compromised his many talents, to please his family. Watching ND and Dalpat debate was like watching a tennis match. After Narayan had gone, he told us his background, his marriage to a tribal woman despite being high cast himself and his aspirations and we listened open-mouthed and astounded as he told an epic tale you could probably place somewhere between The Kite Runner and Shantaram.

We could have stayed all night but since we were under curfew, we had to rush back to our guesthouse for 10.30 curfew. Since Mount Abu contains bears, panthers, crocodiles and leapords, we guessed it was for our own safety so that they knew to raise the alarm. Just as we arrived, there was a wedding procession right outside our hotel. Weddings go on for several days but this section seems to involve driving a loudspeaker through the streets on a jeep while people follow and dance. It was the second one we'd been caught in  (though neither of us can remember when the first one was) but they were particularly persistent this time and actually managed to drag Matt in. Whenever Matt escaped I was caught up and whenever I escaped, Matt was surrounded. At least I don't mind throwing myself about a bit and waving my arms but poor Matt looked very confused and unsure.

When we did break free and get to our room, the toilet smelled so bad we struggled to sleep and vowed to leave in the morning.

Day 15 - 15th Feb- Jodhpur - Mount Abu

As we's heard that the fort was really nice, we broke our 'no more forts' rule and headed up the very steep hill towards the Mehrangarh fort.

On the way, we were stopped by a man who had a large collection of currency from all over the world and wanted some English notes. We get asked this a lot but the smallest English note is quite a few rupees so we're too tight to part from them.

He showed us the guestbook from his hostel, which incuded gems such as: "from Hollywood to Bollywood, the best food is in Thaliwood" and "Uncommonly crispy toast". We decided that some crisy toast would be a real treat and were tempted inside to the rooftop terrace. The toast took ages to come but we passed the time by watching a kid ride his bike around the top of the 4 story building.

Further up the hill, Matt met his nemesis - a man with an even more hair and a very big beard. We discussed the difficulties of transporting such facial hair around India due the the attention that it attracts.

The fort admission included an audio tour and, despite our reservations, it was absolutely fantastic. We spent several hours wandering around and looking at the different rooms and exhibits. There was an extra charge for taking pictures but, since we had expected the fort to look like all of the ther others, we decided photos wouldn't be necessary. Once we were in there though, we followed the crowds also taking sneaky photos and got some great shots.

Back at the hostel, we booked our sleeper bus tickets through Imran and set off into the city to find an omlette man we had heard about, called Vicky.  While we were at his stall, he gave us one of the 19 'guestbooks' he has collected over the last 10 years to take a look at. People really do rave about omlettes.
After watching to world go by for a while, we took a wander around the extensive bazarre. There was little hassle and we really enjoyed taking it all in. We even bought more blankets for laying on - something I felt was quite necessary ever since I mopped up a small water spillage on a train seat and noticed the colour of the tissue. These blankets we much more in the lrid style preferred by Indians and were closer to the kind of thing we were looking for before. At about £1 each they were also an absolute bargain.

Back at the hostel again, I spent a little time talking to Imran - we discussed lots of things about family obligation and personal freedom and how his parents desires impact his life and choices. It was really interesting and I've thought about it quite a lot since.

The tuk tuk arrived to take us to the bus station and dropped us off at the booking office for Jain travels. We were expecting our bus to come there but when a tiny little ramshackle bus turned up, everyone seemed to cram on it in Indian style - the fastest and  sharpest elbowed wins - and we were left standing. The little bus turned out to be the transport to the big bus and since we only had 10 more minutes until our sleeper, we were a little concerned.

We arrived 15 mins late and there were a number of buses on the wasteland of the tourist bus-stop. Some looked quite spanky and new but we were directed towards one that looked very shabby, battered and nothing like the picture in the shop. In fact, since it was parked next to a burnt our car, we could have been forgiven for thinking that this was the scrapyard section.  We needn't have worried about the time though 'cos it was a while before it set off.

The whole thing was nothing short of mental.The buses don't have any names or numbers on so we just have to hope that the bus-driver isn't just agreeing with us when we ask. An answer in the affirmative is characterised by a side-to-side head wobble which we associate more with 'maybe' or uncertainty and that is so deeply ingrained into us we never feel sure anyway.

There seemed to be nowhere to put our bags and so we had to take them on the bus with us, which was quite reassuring until we realised that that meant keeping them in our already rather 'cosy' bed. The double beds themselves were suspended half way up the bus with seats underneath, and were accessed by sliding a window across and climbing in. The opposing window (the one on the outside of the bus) also slid open in exactly the same manner and so it was perfectly possible for it to slide open mid-journey and deposit the sleeper on the pavement at stupid-miles-per-hour. There were curtains blocking a view of us from the inside but none on the outside so we were in full view of anyone who passed by in a similar bus or looked out of a window.
We were still giggling about the whole thing when the bus set off. Almost immediately it stopped again at a junction and we both bashed our heads against the next cubicle. By the time it turned a corner, we were both in stiches as we were rolled over flat onto our faces. Matt tried to sit up again but flung himself back down as the window was hit by a tree and made an almighty crack.

I giggled myself to sleep and somehow slept quite deeply for a while, despite the fact that I  had to have my legs curled up due to the bags, the beeping was incessant and it generally felt like riding a bucking bronco.  I did wake up at one point really panicked because I realised I'd almost managed to straighten one my legs and therefore at least one of the big bags had gone. When I sat up I noticed that the window on the inside of the bus was open so assumed we'd been robbed. Fortunately not. The window had just rattled itself open on the mountain pass and the bag had fallen out, narrowly missing the bloke on the bottom single bunk on the other side. I felt grateful that it only happened on the inside window and Matt was still safely by my side. I was also pretty relieved that it was dark because the perilous speed and maneouvres the bus achieved would probably have scared us both witless if we could have seen the drop.

We arrived 4.30 am, igonored the touts and taxis as we felt quite smug we knew where the hostel was, and then had to walk for ages looking for it. We had to wake up a man sleeping outside, who woke up man inside , who then checked us in. I went to look at the room as Matt looked over the bags (apparently I'd be the picky one - as if!) but found the man rather strange as he appeared to blow me a kiss so I headed quickly back downstairs and asked to see a different room. I later asked the owner what the gesture meant in case I'd misinterpreted it. He told me 'sweetness'. When I told him that his worker had done it to me, he told me I'd misinterpreted it! Either way, the second room was slightly less stinky than the first and we were tired and unsure of our chances of finding somewhere else so we went to bed and locked the door.

Day 14 - 14th Feb -Jodhpur

We were going to just get up and explore Jodhpur ourselves but instead got talked into a 'Village Safari'. We were given the impression that it was a way to really see what life is like in rural India. On our way to the jeep I was recognised in the street by a man building a road who must have been at the wedding. Now I truly am famous.

We went with a Russian guy called Alex, Leo and a French couple called Thomas and Virginia who were in their last two weeks of their own year-long trip. On the way we spotted a number of wild animals, including a couple of types of antelope.

Our first stop was the site of an execution/sacrifice of 363 Bishnoi people in 1730 because of the Khejri tree. I can't explain as well as I'd like to at this time of night so here's an axtract from http://bishnois.wordpress.com/

So it is told, the Maharaja of the area had plans to build a princely palace and needed a substantial quantity of firewood to produce lime.  He sent forth his forces to a large population of Khejri trees, in Khejarli, to cut them down.  Amrita Devi, a loyal Bishnoi mother versed in the teachings of Jambhoji, faced the soldiers and proclaimed that anyone wishing to cut a tree would have to first cut through her.  Weaponless in her protection of the trees, it is said that she hugged the nearest Khejri, forcing the axe-wielding soldiers to cut through her neck.  Incensed at the loss of tree and fellow compatriot, villagers came from all around to face the Maharaja’s army.  By the end of the massacre, 363 Bishnois had given their lives in sacrifice to save green trees.  Appalled at the situation and overwhelmed by the dedication of the villagers, the Maharaja passed a decree legally protecting green trees, which stands to this day.  Furthermore, it is highly likely that the term ‘tree hugger’ originated 280 years ago when Amrita Devi demonstrated a mother’s love for our hero, the Khejri tree.

This site was a really peaceful place but the monument was locked up. There were peacocks and antelope wandering about - being followed by the snap-happy Alex who didn't stop to listen to the tale.

Opium tea? Why not.

Next we moved on to a 'Bishnoi village' - which appeared to consist of just one man and his family. The Bishnoi have a strict principle of protecting all animals and the environment and many work long and exhausting days. Opium is still really important in Bishnoi religion but is now outlawed in India. They are allowed to use it but they are not allowed to grow it so are forced to buy it.

When we arrived, the man performed a traditional opium tea ceremony. Sitting on a camel-hair carpet, the man, curly whiskered and quite impressive in his crisp white outfit (including a 12metre long turban), sat crossed legged before a small wooden contraption comprising two strainers, two beautifully carved wooden urns, a pestle and a small metal container holding water.

He dug deep into the hidden folds of his shirt and produced a piece of opium, about the size of a lump of sugar. The opium was bound with sugar to form a solid lump - as much from the need to make it cheape than because of the indian taste for super-sweet tea.

He then went through a complicated process of straining and mixing until he was satisfied with it. The 'tea' is traditionally taken in the cupped hand and drunk from the palm.

The guide made a big deal to us about how poor these people were, and despite evidence to the contrary in his wife's colourful and elaborate clothes and her clear taste for gold jewellery, Matt and I left a big tip. Just before the next truck-load of tourists turned up and we were quickly ferried away.

Next we were taken to the guide's house for lunch and to see how camel-hair carpets (famed for their resiliance and the fact they never need washing) were made. Lunch was served in round hut with a straw roof and we watched a woman patiently make chapattis and cook them on the fire.

Next, we were taken to a nearby outbuilding where the guide's brother quickly explained how the carpets were made and then offered us a range of them to buy. We were quickly getting the measure of this tour and politely declined. Alex did express some interest as he was planning on possibly starting a business, to accompany the one he already has a speciaist 'dog apparel'.

After that we were taken to another house where they made pots and other clay goods. There were piles of identical pieces, all stacked up perfectly an reaching way above our heads. We were shown how to make pots and then asked if we wanted a go. Since the French people were clearly getting annoyed and since we all knew what was coming after, I volunteered to give it a go - if we were going to have a thinly veiled tour of shops, I was going to have some fun. Despite the man's clear instructions, my attempts were rather feeble and the results were quite pathetic, though it was kinda fun.

We were asked whether we wanted to go to a recycling place but when he guide explained it further, it was a recycled textiles factory. Now, the mention of 'textiles' normally fills anyone who's been in India for more than a couple of days with dread and a deep-seated need to flee, but majority ruled and we gave it a bash.

After a cursory look at where the textiles were made and a quick explanation, we were then seated in a room and subjected to a parade of articles from bedclothes to scarves, accompanied with the usual mantra: 'very cheap, very good quality'. None of us were interested in buying (except maybe Alex) but the French guys chatted and giggles amongst themselves and dared to challenge the prices. After getting rather exasperated at their insistence that identical items were available in Europe much more cheaply, the guy in factory was very sharp with a guide and was clearly telling him to get us out of there.

The guide was rather sulky on the way back and dropped us off in the middle of town rather than at the hostel. Everyone seemed a bit rattled and so we mostly ended up going in different directions -though Matt and I soon bumped into Alex again as we struggled to find our way back to the hostel.

After a chat with Alex and a discussion of his dual Moscow and Toronto lifestye, I switched on the boiler in our bathroom so the water would warm up for a shower and went to the internet cafe. I was widhed 'Happy Valentines Day' by strangers and had my hand shaken a number of times.

 I was joined shortly after by Matt, who told me that he was pretty pleased that he hadn't used the bathroom as the heater pipe had exploded and sprayed very hot water everywhere, creating an interesting sauna effet on our room. The hostel staff seemed unconcerned. After doing a bit more research, we were told by the internet guy that he would kindly only charge us for one computer, even though we had been sat using it together!

We met up with the French guys again and popped into the town for samosa and beers. We were too late for the typical 'English wine and beer shop' but did persuade a bar to let us have a take-out.

We sat on the rooftop, with a beautiful view of all the major attractions (which were all lit up and glowing) and chatted about their round-the-world trip as we tried to pick-up recommendations. They hated China, listing all the things they found wrong with it, including: everything being regimented, the people not wanting to speak to tourists, the fact that everyone constantly hawks up phlegm (much worse than here apparently) and constantly farted in public,  as well as many other things. They absolutely loved Tibet though and, since I already wasn't keen on going to China, we tried to explore ways of seeing it on our single-entry Visa, though we eventually had to conclude that it might not be possible.